Summary: Lydia breaks her ankle and Stiles takes care of her.
Author's note: Written for stydia-fanfiction on tumblr for the prompt: "Lydia has a broken leg/ankle and Stiles takes care of her, a bit of angst but mostly fluff and comfort :)"
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"I can't believe you're mad at me. I'm the one who got hurt," Lydia lets out exasperatedly, trying to get Stiles to talk because he's been in a mood all day.
It has been a long day, though. Lydia will give him that.
"And that's exactly why I'm mad at you. What were you thinking?" he spats out, opening her front door and waiting until Lydia makes her way through with the crutches she'll just have to get used to for now.
The banshee doesn't seem fazed by his irritated tone. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe saving your life..." she remarks sarcastically.
Even though it's not his house, Stiles closes the front door with a loud thump but he just doesn't have it in him to really care about it at the moment. "Did I asked you to? Look what happened," he mutters, pointing at her ankle in a cast as if that will make his point any more valid.
"You don't have to ask me to risk my life for you, Stiles. I will and that's it."
It's the one point they just can't agree on ever since they started dating two months ago.
Stiles groans, upset. "Not if it hurts you."
Lydia rolls her eyes at him and turns around, slowly making her way upstairs to her bedroom with Stiles in tow. "If I hadn't pushed you out of the way, then you would have gotten hurt."
"I'd rather die than have you getting hurt," he tells her nonchalantly. "You know that. We've been through this before."
Lydia huffs and stops, taking a deep breath before continuing. She should have known that dating someone who's just as stubborn as she is wasn't that good of an idea. "Well, the feeling is mutual, thus why I got you out of the way."
Stiles is restless, she can tell, because he's worried about her, so when he tries to fix the cushions on her bed so that she can sit comfortably, they keep falling to the ground and Stiles curses, frustrated.
Thinking that maybe she's being too harsh on his natural obstinacy when he does have a point, Lydia reaches out and takes his hand, trying to soothe him. "Stiles, I'm okay."
He sighs sadly, running his free hand through his hair and messing it up. "There was blood, Lydia. Tons of blood and I didn't know how hurt you were, or if it was just your foot, and you were unconscious there for a second because you hit your head too, so I think it's understandable that I'm worried, alright?"
Lydia purses her lips and nods in understanding. "I know. And I'm sorry, okay?" she lets out as he helps her sit on the mattress and put her ankle up on a cushion so that she can rest properly. "But had it been the other way around, you wouldn't have hesitated in getting me out of the way either, would you? You can't tell me you would have."
It had cut his holidays short.
The Sheriff had taken Stiles away for a couple of weeks of fishing, camping and just father-son bonding during summer before his spazz of a son gets on his way to college, but of course something had to happen. A threat had appeared and the pack needed Stiles back, so the Stilinskis returned a day before they had to, which wasn't all that bad.
Anyway.
The thing is, it's Liam's fault.
They had been up against a rival pack and things went south as they always do, and Liam being Liam reacted before the others could prevent it. Stiles, in an attempt of avoiding that the younger wolf would get injured – it was instinct, okay? It's not like he cares about Liam or anything, shut up! - reacted too and shoved him out of the way only to be the new target, and that's when Lydia came in and ended up saving Stiles' ungrateful ass and got injured in the process, screaming so loud that the werewolf that had gone after Liam was on his knees in a second, and a second was enough for Scott to take the reins but not enough for Lydia to step away, and lets just say that she's lucky she still has her foot.
"It just sucks that you were the one who got injured."
"Well, it's the same for me when something happens to you. We'd be having this exact same discussion right now if I hadn't stepped in, only the other way around. It could have easily been you who got a broken ankle. Or worse. I got hurt but I'll be fine, alright?"
Stiles nods while putting the crutches away, making his way to the window to close the curtains so that they can settle comfortably while watching a movie, as her medication starts working.
Lydia watches him roam around her room expertly as if he knows every inch by heart – which he does -, and when he's satisfied with the setting Lydia murmurs, noticing how tense he is. "Stiles, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad."
He plops down on the bed right beside her, leaning against the bedframe too and turning on the TV, zapping distractedly. "I'm not mad mad. I just... I worry. I wasn't here and we had to come back running to help the pack and next thing I know, everyone's fighting and Liam- God, he has to stop playing the hero like that or I'll kill him myself..." Stiles exhales sharply, pausing for a moment. "You just scared the hell out of me," he confesses.
Truth is, he's seen Lydia bleeding on the floor one too many times and he doubts it'll be the last.
The redhead shuffles closer to him, enough that her ankle is still at rest as it's supposed to and enough that she can nuzzle against her boyfriend, for both their ease.
Stile wraps an arm around her instinctively, rubbing her shoulder when Lydia rests her head on his chest, close to the crook of his neck enough that he feels her breathing on his skin.
Thankfully, that relaxes him a bit.
"I know. I'm really sorry," she whispers. "I didn't mean to scare you."
Stiles kisses her forehead. "I know. I'm sorry too." Lydia looks up at him and he smiles softly. "Are you in pain?"
Lydia shakes her head. "Not much. The painkillers are starting to kick in."
Stiles sighs and pulls her closer, his lips brushing against her temple when he speaks after a moment or two of silence, when he debates with himself if he should ask of her something he knows she'd ask of him the same way, and yet he knows both their answers are the same even before he says anything. "Promise me you won't do it again."
Lydia doesn't even seem fazed by it. She understands why he has to ask. "I can't. You know that. Just like I couldn't ask the same of you and expect something different."
Stiles gets that, of course, but Lydia knows he's upset. He's holding her tenderly but he's still stressed, still scared that the outcome of their battle with the other pack could have been entirely different, that maybe he wouldn't have gotten back to Beacon Hills in time to prevent something worse.
"You're so stubborn," he mumbles under his breath, voice low.
"Look who's talking," Lydia says back, her tone slightly amused in a way of trying to lighten the mood. "But I still love you."
It doesn't necessarily make up for what happened, but Stiles can't help the way his lips tilt up immediately.
"Of course you do, I'm me."
Lydia smacks his chest playfully and smiles too. "And where's my kiss?"
When Stiles got back from his trip with the Sheriff, it had been pack business right away, meaning he didn't even get to hold his girlfriend until she was all bloodied on the floor during the attack, and from then on it was all frantic yelling and worry and carrying her to the hospital so that Melissa could fix her up, and after that it was just staying by her side to make sure that Lydia didn't take matters into her own hands to get out of there earlier than she had to.
"I don't know if you deserve a kiss," he jokes, choosing a channel at random because he knows that, as tired as they are, neither will stay awake for long.
Lydia's mouth opens in feigned shock. "Of course I do."
"I don't know. You were pretty reckless today-"
"I broke my ankle for you, you ass!"
Stiles tsks.
Lydia pouts. "I haven't seen you in two weeks. I-"
Stiles teases her. "Did you miss me?"
Lydia groans, hating that he knows how to work her up. "You know what? Never mind."
Stiles laughs wholeheartedly for the first time today, cupping her cheek and planting a smooch on her lips that, as much as she'd like to deny it, she responds to eagerly.
When he lingers, Lydia wishes things had gone differently. Stiles would just be home tomorrow and she was gonna take him out and they were gonna have some alone time and she's been thinking of letting him have her in the Jeep and-
Stiles interrupts her train of thoughts with a soft peck, his forehead touching hers tenderly, his thumb brushing her cheekbone slowly. "Hi."
Lydia grins.
(More like, she melts really.)
"Hi."
"I missed you."
Despite herself, Lydia yawns tiredly. "And I missed you. It's boring around here when you're not around," she confesses, because truth is Stiles brings life to any situation in a way that the others just don't.
"Oh, yeah?"
Lydia nods, nuzzling against him again, eyes fluttering. "Yeah."
Stiles smiles softly. The painkillers and the adrenaline have to be wearing her out. "Are you tired?"
"Eh, just a little bit," she murmurs breathily.
Stiles chuckles but Lydia doesn't have it in her to chastise him for mocking her, so they settle then, quietly watching TV while Stiles runs a hand through her hair soothingly, and not long after Lydia is fast asleep beside him.
She gets better in time, of course, and the next time something happens it's her turn again to get hurt, and as much as Stiles tries to make her see reason, there's no point to it. Because the time it happens again after that it's Stiles' turn to save her life and it's a vicious cycle, one they'll never get out of. And when they argue and bicker about it they always get to the same conclusion.
They do it because they love the other more than their own life to have it any other way, and they'll do it for as long as they have to, and that's all that there's to it.
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Author's note: Feedback is much appreciated :)